Chico and the Man (chicoandtheman) wrote,
Chico and the Man

"Planning a wedding is super fun!" said no one...

The man sez: Hooray! We're engaged!! And now I spend the next twelve months having endless dreams where I am failing at some impossible task (Peacock farming! Packing non-perishables for a survival scenario such as zombie apocalypse!) that leave me stressed and cranially tired when I wake up. "But," they tell me, "enjoy this process." No one currently planning their own wedding says this. None of them. People who have completed the wedding planning and executed the ceremony and reception, those are the ones that tell you to enjoy an increasingly frustrating and emotionally and financially draining series of demoralizing tasks wherein you realize some deep inner person truths that maybe you were just fine not knowing. When I began this process, the son of one of the specialists at Second Job had also just proposed to his girlfriend. She and I often share hollow-eyed, knowing looks in solidarity.

My dream wedding would be in the courtyard of the National Portrait Gallery. I would do pretty much anything to make this reality, but there are certain things that legally cannot be overcome. Security fences, namely. See, Smithsonian properties cannot be rented for events of a personal nature, such as weddings or bar mitzvahs. Oh, also nothing religious. Nothing political, either. And, duh, no fundraisers. I'm not sure what is left. A convention? Or shooting a music video? I have no idea.

I turned to the internet to find an alternative elegant, interesting museum-like space. The National Museum of Women in the Arts was my first choice, but Mimsy spent the entire metro ride home listing reasons why, while she also loved the space, it probably isn't very ideal for our guests. For the record, at least one of her many reasons would be the case with ANY venue. The complete story of disappointments is too long and too boring to be worth recording in full, but let me just say that booking a venue is really similar to buying a car.

My next great hope was the Corcoran Gallery. I firmly believe that the universe is built on coincidence, that there isn't really fate but the human mind's compulsion to seek connections and construct patterns. That said, of course I find out that afternoon via NPR that the Corcoran has just completed a merger with the National Gallery. Oh? So now the same rental restrictions apply to this gorgeous building? Fantaaaaaaaaaaaastic.

Le search... she continues...
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